Everything Changes
by DustfingerandXion
Summary: Post PC, Pre VoDT. When Caspian finds himself in the Pevensie's world, things are not at all what he expected. Struggling through school-life in England, where no-one even knows his name, he begins to wonder if he's made a mistake. SLASH.
1. Prologue

The courtyard was halved with a dark shadow; the other, more welcoming side was bathed in moonlight. Clouds pressed forwards, smothering the moon and protecting the figure below from any observers. Sliding into one of the rarely used corridors branching away from the square, the hooded figure glanced over his shoulder, just in case.

The figure shrugged off the possibility of anyone following him this far. The moonlight peered through an elaborately coloured window, and it glittered in his deep, brown eyes, revealing a doleful, melancholy expression, which slowly morphed into a frown. The figure turned away from the glass to face the ominous, lifeless door.

The sounds of muffled footsteps echoed off the stone walls, and he let a small sigh escape his lips. It sounded unnaturally loud in the passage drenched in silence. Before he could take another breath it was knocked clean out of him as he was thrown aside.

"Identify yourself, toe rag!"

In the fall, the dark eyed shadow's hood was thrown back revealing a surprised expression.

Slightly winded, he peered up at his attacker in the dim moonlight and glanced down at the glistening sword hovering a hair's breadth from his throat. Whoever it was wasn't very tall, maybe the height of a dwarf. But then, dwarves don't have long tails.

"Reepicheep?"

The mouse frowned a little.

"Caspian?!" He removed himself from his king's chest quickly, dusting himself down. "...Ahem. I'm sorry your majesty," He quickly sheathed his sword and bowed so low his nose touched the ground. "I thought you might have been trying to break into the castle..."

Caspian clambered to his feet and forced a small smile. Shaking his head, he said, "Reepicheep, why would I need to break into my own castle?"

"That is a good question, sire. But, as a burglar, breaking into the castle would seem a good idea, would it not? And, in the dark, it is difficult to see facial features. Especially when you insist on wearing a cloak..." He frowned. "Why were you sneaking around your own castle anyway, your majesty?"

Caspian hesitated."I had trouble sleeping." He quickly invented, trying to give the impression that he enjoyed calmly walking about in the early hours of the morning. Which, truthfully, he did not; as it always reminded him all too vividly of the night he was forced to flee over a year ago.

Reepicheep placed his paws on his hips, looking up at Caspian in a disbelieving way. "Now, tell me the truth, sire." He narrowed his eyes a little at him. The king made the mistake of looking shocked at this remark, causing Reepicheep to give a knowing smile. He said nothing for a moment, looking to the door Caspian was standing by. His tiny jaw dropped a little and he moved so he was stood in front of it. "What were you trying to do?" It was his turn to look shocked.

"You cannot mention it!" The king's voice grew slightly quieter and more urgent, under the assumption that Reepicheep had a pretty good idea of what he was doing. Reepicheep frowned and folded his forelegs.

"Susan? It is a long way to go just for a girl, sire."

Caspian bit his lip, Reepicheep's words echoing in his head. He knew there was no negotiating with his small friend. "What would you know about girls? You are a _mouse."_ He strode defiantly past the dumbstruck rodent.

He almost tripped as he felt a sudden weight on his foot, attempting to pull him back. He looked down to find Reepicheep had wrapped his legs tightly around the King's ankle. His expression darkened. Whatever had made him quite so short tempered, he didn't know. Maybe he really wasn't getting enough sleep.

"Reepicheep," He began steadily, breathing out with a quiet sigh. "Let go of my foot. Please."

"I cannot just allow you to go!" He squeaked, words slightly muffled by the fabric of Caspian's trousers.

"That was not a request, Reepicheep." Caspian continued to stare at his friend uncomfortably. The mouse was looking at him defiantly, beady eyes glittering with determination. He generally avoided bossing others around, but the ability did come in helpful at times.

Reepicheep seemed slightly annoyed, but removed himself from his ankle anyway. He watched the retreating back of his King until the door closed behind him. He skittered away and down another corridor, one task in mind: Stop whatever Caspian was planning.

The lights going out at the base of the castle told Caspian that the morning was approaching fast. He quickened his pace towards the tree. The only tree with a doorway to another world between its roots. He stopped before it, looking it up and down. Should he go?

Feeling something tug at his shoulder, Caspian span around, dark eyes checking the scene nervously. Nothing. He relaxed, stumbling on a thin tree root he was balanced on and catching his heel on the one behind. The king let out a quiet cry as he toppled backwards, falling into a haze of confusion.


	2. Arrival

The station was nearly empty as the two Pevensie boys sat on the second stop on the way to school. They had left Susan and Lucy on the train as they left to go their separate ways. Lucy had been a little tearful as this was the last time she would see her brothers until Christmas. Peter sat with his legs crossed on the bench, a book nestled in the middle.

Edmund, however, wasn't as organized as his older brother, and preoccupied himself by staring at the barren walls of the station. He'd started a sort of routine, and would occasionally get up to pace the empty station before sitting down again. He'd just sat down for the fourth or maybe fifth time, when he heard a peculiar noise and a thump from the other end of the station. With nothing better to look at, Edmund turned to check what was going on. He dismissed it, and returned to his state of boredom. Only when he heard a small groan did he snap his head back round to gape at the crumpled heap on the floor.

He reached around without looking away and shook Peter's shoulder roughly. Peter ignored his gesture and jerked his shoulder to get his hand away. He too, did not look away from his book.

"Ed, stop it!"

"No, look!"

Without even looking, Peter nodded.

"Mmhm, lovely." He swivelled round a little so he was angled away from his brother. Sighing, Edmund turned away for a moment. Whatever had appeared was still there, and as he watched it started to sit up. He spun back round, snatching Peter's book from his hands and used the heavy hardback whack his brother on the back of his head. Peter yelped and instantly wheeled round to face Edmund, one hand on the back of his head, a disgruntled expression on his face. "What was that for?!"

Edmund's smirk slowly slipped into a scowl.

"For not listening." He jabbed a finger over his shoulder. "_Look_."

Rubbing the back of his head, Peter looked where his brother pointed. The deep frown on his face lifted as he saw what he was looking at and his jaw dropped.

"...Oh." Peter watched the crumpled heap get to its feet and let out a high pitched cry. "_Good God_!" Edmund shot him a scolding look for his lack of tactfulness and Peter continued to gawk. "Ed. Ed, Caspian's stood on the platform." Rolling his eyes, Edmund slapped the other with the book again.

"Yes, Pete. I know."

The Narnian King found himself winded for the second time that day, and he looked around him in complete confusion. It took his eyes several moments to adjust to the sudden colour change. Was everything meant to be so... Grey? The tiles ahead were a grungy white, clearly ignored for quite some time and the floor wasn't much better. Caspian lifted his hand, peeling off a slither of grassy mud, carried in by someone's shoe.

He pushed himself up, and his arm throbbed unpleasantly in protest having not yet recovered from being landed on. The young king groaned and tried to rub some sense into the offending limb.

"_Good God_!"

Caspian, startled, whirled around with wide eyes. He caught a glimpse of the two other boys sat not too far away, with identical shocked faces.

Another voice cut across the first. "Ah. This could be problematic."

"Where on _Earth_ did you come from?" The older of the two brothers had stopped gaping in his direction, but was still in shock. He barley flinched as an elbow was jabbed between his ribs. No one answered and Edmund gave him a disbelieving look.

"But, what are you doing? That's impossible." Peter stepped forward, shock dissolving into a sudden burst of agitation and shrugged off the calming hand that Edmund placed on his shoulder. "You shouldn't be here. Wait, you _can't_ be here!"

Caspian approached the bristling teen. "Do you not want me to be here?"

"No."

The young king's jaw twitched and he looked away.

"Wait. Wait, no. Yes. _Yes._" Peter bit his lip, slightly muddled over what he was supposed to say.

With a small sigh, Caspian dropped his bag to the floor, which gave a small squeak of protest.

Edmund reeled back in alarm, staring at the bag, then at Caspian, who mirrored his expression, and back again. "Did your bag just..." All eyes rested on the quivering object sat upon the dirt. Peter looked accusingly at Caspian.

"Great, he brought friends."

He merely received a dark look from the Narnian king. Caspian felt a sudden gush of resentment toward the older Pevensie boy, bursting with arguments and reasons to get Peter off his back. Despite his arguments and reasons, he replied with a measly response.

"I didn't."

"Then why did your bag just squeak?"

"Please do _not_ refer to me as an inanimate object!"

Peter opened his mouth, ready to throw an angry comment back at the speaker, then realised no one had spoken. The other two reacted quite differently, simultaneously leaping backwards. Unfortunately for Caspian, the long folds of his cloak became tangled in his boots and he was thrown to the floor, in level with the something emerging from his bag.

Reepicheep scrambled out of the heavy fabric, quickly brushing down his coat and observing everyone watching him. With the scrap of dignity he had left, he bowed gracefully bowed to each of the kings in turn. He deliberately left Caspian to last, and waited for the current king to speak first.

"I thought I told you not to follow me!"

Before Caspian had a chance to even take a breath, Reepicheep had cut him off and snapped back with,

"I thought I told _you _not to go!" Reepicheep folded his forelegs and looked Caspian directly in the eye. "And it's not like I can go back now."

"What do you mean you _can't _go back?" Peter stepped forward, a look of complete disbelief on his face. Caspian mumbled something inaudible and ran a hand through his dark hair in frustration, which then fell roughly back into place. "So you knew this was going to happen? Did you ever even think what would happen to Narnia while you were gone? You _know_ what happened when we left last time."

Caspian bit his lip, thinking a moment. He hadn't really thought about it, just assumed that the brave, loyal Narnians would sort themselves out.

"The Narnians are roeliable; they can cope without my guidance." He lied. To be honest, he had no idea what would happen, but he didn't like Peter's accusing attitude and wanted it to stop.

Peter gently rubbed his temples; this conversation was not going well. He let out a frustrated sigh and glared at Caspian. Just moments ago, he'd finally left Narnia behind and it insisted on haunting him. He'd managed to let Narnia go, but it – he scowled in Caspian's direction – couldn't seem to let him go.

"Why can't you just leave me alone!" He pressed his forehead into his palm, and realised he had spoken out loud. He quickly resolved the situation by saying: "What do you propose we do?"

There was a heavy silence, broken only by the dripping of rain above. Everyone present was thoughtful for a moment. A small smirk slowly grew across Edmund's face. His expression didn't waver when Peter sent him a threatening look.

"This is not the time, Edmund."

"Shut up Pete, I have the _best_ idea."


	3. Fitting In

After several minutes of wrestling clothes out of his protesting brother's suitcase, Edmund stomped over to Caspian with a pile of neatly folded school uniform bundled in his arms: white shirt; dismally grey trousers and royal blue sleeveless jumper. He guided the confused Caspian towards a dingy cupboard full of mops and buckets, explaining sympathetically why Caspian could not walk into school dressed like a Narnian King. Ignoring Peter's glares from behind him, Edmund shoved Caspian into the cupboard, threw the clothes in after him and shut the door. Peter's foul mood seemed to be rubbing off on him; he just wasn't in the mood for any kind of resistance.

As Edmund turned around, he caught the disapproving look Peter threw in his direction. He watched as Peter returned to letter writing; ferociously scribbling away at the piece of paper he had found nestled in the bottom of his bag.

The rickety bench squeaked in complaint as Edmund let himself flop on it. Reepicheep turned to strike up a conversation with younger Pevensie boy. Before he could even get a word in, he was rudely cut across by Peter demanding more ink. The mouse picked up the pot with his tail and waved it toward Peter's face without even turning around.

"Oh, blast! Look what you've done now!" He threw his arms in the air, glaring at the black blot that slowly seeped through his writing. 'As if my day couldn't get any better....'  
Reepicheep leapt up, set the ink pot on the floor where it would not fall and bowed several times, stating elaborate apologies.  
Peter showed little acknowledgement of Reepicheep's pleas for forgiveness, and left.  
He was followed by a comment from his brother: "Oh, grow up, Pete."  
He snapped back instantly. "Fine then! Do it yourself!"

Edmund huffed, and pulled a spare sheet of paper towards him, and attempted to resurrect his letter writing skills.

*****

Caspian ventured out the cupboard sheepishly, looking a little out of place in Peter's school uniform. A low rumble started up as he turned the corner, and he found the station still occupied by their small party. The rumble increased to a dull roar as a train plunged through the grimy station. The Narnian King caught fleeting glimpses of his own reflection in the rapidly passing windows.

Caspian gazed at his own flickering, vacant expression. The crisp white shirt and neatly pressed trousers contrasted dramatically with his usual Narnian clothing, which would usually hang loosely off his muscular frame. The uniform seemed to make him look many years younger; but strangely taller, as his trousers hovered a few inches from the floor. Caspian's face swam before him. His hair was dishevelled; his eyes wide and blank with fatigue. It made him wonder why he'd roped himself into this mess.  
And whether it was worth it or not.

"—can't honestly think that you can walk into a school looking like that!"

The train left the station with a resounding_ whoosh_, as did Caspian's train of thought.

"Are you listening to me _at all_?" There it was again. Peter's voice. Interrupting his thoughts.

"Excuse me?"

"Your tie. It's not even done up."

Caspian looked down at his 'tie'. "Erm, yes. Well..."

"Well?"

"_Well_, I've never had to wear one before!"

"_Well_, you could have at least asked for help."

"I am a Narnian king! I do not ask for help!"

*****

They spent the next couple of hours stood in the relatively cramped interior of the train. Although he did not voice his opinions, Edmund could clearly tell that Peter blamed Caspian for making them late for their train, therefore missing all opportunities to find a seat before they were filled. Edmund leant his head against the cold, smear-stained window. The vibrations of the train rumbling across its tracks jostled his head in an extremely uncomfortable way.

It had already been an hour, and things had passed uneventfully. All three boys seemed to ignore each other completely, each for a different reason.

The walk from the station to St. Christopher's School was equally silent, the only sounds being the crunch of fallen leaves on the floor and the sound of trains getting more and more distant. Despite being a fairly big school, the only way to get to it was up a winding path, framed by trees on each side.

The path was extremely narrow, there was maybe room for a small car to fit down it with a few inches either side. There were ruts in the path, running parallel to each other and filled with mud, forcing the boys to walk right next to the trees, which was not an easy task, especially when carrying heavy, bulky bags.

Eventually, the path widened, and the school finally become visible. The school was large, all straight lines and corners, with a flat, imposing front. It cast an ominous, harsh shadow over the students approaching it.

The headmaster's office was on the ground floor. It was a large, spacious room with tall windows let through beams of light onto his desk, revealing dust particles that seemed to dance as they settled. In the centre of the room sat a mahogany desk, beneath the newly settled dust there were many important looking papers stacked into neat piles, pens of varying sizes and a lone picture frame.

Professor Hanks – the headmaster, students were required to address him as 'sir' – peered over Edmund's carefully forged letter. He drummed his fingers on the desk, and Edmund thought for a horrible moment that he didn't believe it.

"You've got yourselves in quite a predicament here, haven't you?" Edmund simply nodded, exchanging glances with Peter. The headmaster adjusted his glasses and went on. "I do hope the situation resolves itself. And where is this young man from? I don't remember reading that in your mother's letter."

"Nar-" Edmund coughed loudly and Peter swiftly cut across Caspian before he could say anything too stupid.

"North... Spain! Yes, he's from North Spain." Peter shot Caspian a look that said 'stop talking _now_'. The headmaster had seemed to miss this slip up.

"Really? My sister resides there, whereabouts are you from?"

Caspian looked blankly at Peter and Edmund, hoping for some kind of clue of what to say. Peter looked expectantly at Edmund, who was better at geography. Edmund looked at the floor trying to think quickly.

"Léon. " He said finally, pulling a smug expression. The headmaster seemed unperturbed by their hesitation.

"Really, that's nice." The headmaster already seemed to be losing interest, taking some paperwork out of a drawer. "Here's what we're going to do." He consulted the letter again. "Cas... Caspian?" Caspian nodded and the headmaster continued. "You'll be lodging with Mr Pevensie while you are here." The two Pevensies looked confused.

"Which one, sir?" Edmund asked.

The headmaster raised an eyebrow. "The eldest, of course." Peter frowned, clearly unimpressed.

*****

Caspian watched Peter as he ferociously unpacked his suitcase. Wherever he stood, he seemed to be getting in the way. In fact, it was hard to not get in the way, as the room was quite small. The two beds took up the most space, leaving just enough room to wedge in a wardrobe, a desk and a chair.

Dinner had passed in complete silence, again. Peter had excluded Caspian all throughout dinner; instead he talked to his friends. Edmund sat on the other side of the room. Now Peter wasn't even acknowledging the fact that Caspian was there.

Picking up Peter's book (The Hobbit) from his bedside table, Caspian flicked through the pages. He let to hardback drop open on a page and skim-read it. It happened to be a detailed description of the Baggins' house. Caspian looked up at Peter who was throwing a poor, innocent toothbrush into a drawer.

"Hobbiton?" He voiced his thoughts aloud. "Have you been to this place?" The book was instantly snatched from his grasp.

"Of course not. _It doesn't exist_." Peter snapped, dropping the book into the drawer with the toothbrush.

Next thing Caspian saw was a pair of striped pyjamas being flung in his face. Peter said nothing but the irritated look he threw over his shoulder made Caspian feel like a naughty child being sent to bed.

"Good night?"


	4. Cold Hands, Warm Heart

"What is this curious flaky brown stuff, Peter?" Caspian held up a bowl of cereal for Peter to examine.

Peter didn't look away from his toast. "Cereal."

"What do you do with it?" Caspian said, earning a suspicious glance from the small child sat opposite him.

"You eat it."

"What-" Peter whipped the bowl of cereal out from under Caspian's nose and dropped his charred piece of toast onto Caspian's plate.

"Eat this."

"But it's-"

"Just eat it, Caspian!"

*****

Caspian stared blankly at the open French textbook with the decaying spine in front of him. No matter how many times he read the peculiar words, they just would not make sense. He considered asking Peter for assistance, but then decided against it. Peter was pointedly facing away from him, pressing harder than necessary on his paper with his pencil.

Caspian frowned and quietly closed the textbook. He couldn't understand why Peter was giving him the cold shoulder. Peter was acting very strangely – not at all like the High King. His professor had told him that the Narnian air changed people from this world – did this mean that English air changed people too? Edmund had assured him there was nothing wrong, but Peter's attitude said otherwise. Peter seemed more difficult to read than the textbook.

"Excuse me..." He was dragged out of his thoughts by a quiet voice and looked up slowly. "Do you need any help?" Caspian blinked, mesmerized by the unusual eye colour of the boy speaking to him. A quiet snapping noise echoed through the silent classroom. Caspian glanced over at Peter who, it seemed, had broken his pencil.

"You look a little lost." The boy's eyes were a deep shade of emerald green, something Caspian had never seen before. The colour of his hair matched Caspian's almost perfectly, although it was very different in style; slightly spiky, and a little ruffled.

"Thank you, but, I think I can manage." Caspian smiled politely and re-opened his textbook, picking up his pencil again, only to find out that Peter had swapped it for his broken one.

*****

"...He just doesn't belong here, Ed!"

"You haven't given him a chance to explain himself!"

"I don't need to, he shouldn't even _be_ here!"

"No wonder he's acting so distant, with you just excluding him. That's probably the last thing he wants at the moment."

"Why are you taking his side?! You're supposed to be my bro-"

"Stop overreacting, Peter. You're being such a prat, it's not that big a deal!"

"But-"

"Just drop it."

Edmund stormed away from his brother, ending the conversation abruptly. He swung around the corner, colliding with an eavesdropping Caspian. Caspian stared at him for a shocked moment, then spun on his heel and walked away – where, he wasn't too sure.

"Caspian, wait!" Edmund called after him, before Caspian got engulfed in a crowd of students. Peter appeared by Edmund's shoulder and scowled. "Now look what you've done!" He scolded, giving him a sharp slap on the shoulder.

*****

The eldest Pevensie boy frowned as he sat down for the last lesson of the day, English Literature. All the class were supposed to be doing was read a book, but Peter was too caught up in his own thoughts to pay attention. Caspian hadn't turned up to any lessons since he and Edmund had argued, and as much as he was trying to deny it, Peter was beginning to worry. He wasn't worried because Caspian had disappeared without a reason – he knew full well why he wasn't there. He was more concerned about _where_ Caspian had disappeared to.

He didn't hate Caspian – honestly. He just wished that Caspian had had the sense to stay in Narnia where he belonged. Peter wasn't sure why Caspian would ever dream of coming over to this dump, but he didn't know, as he hadn't given Caspian a chance to explain himself. Edmund was right.

Peter wasn't just being a prat; he had a reason for the way he was acting. He finally thought he'd left Narnia behind, and was ready to move on. He really believed that he had learnt all he could, and would never see it again. He'd never claimed it was a good reason...

He was the first one out of the door once the lesson had finished.

*****

He never quite realised how huge St Christopher's School was. But what he did realise, was that Caspian was not hiding in any of the classrooms. Or the library. Or the dining hall. Or even the smelly broom cupboard on the second floor. He'd even asked the maids.  
He was just about to start all over again when he encountered Edmund returning from playing cricket with his friends. He stopped Peter in the corridor.

"Please tell me you're not looking for Caspian." Peter remained silent. "Find him, you... idiot..." Before Edmund had a chance to finish his sentence, Peter had walked off.

*****

It was getting late now, and Peter really was starting to worry. The sun was starting to sink down behind the school, casting an ominous shadow across the school grounds, which didn't look much more than a giant field. The grounds were Peter's last resort – if Caspian was not here, Peter would have no idea where to go next.

His eyes scanned the field desperately as he walked; he reached the end of the cricket pitch, and was ready to give up. He began to turn away, unsure of where to go. Something caught his eye by an impressive oak tree. A group of people were gathered under the oak tree. The first thing that Peter noticed was the one person stood away from the group. With his long hair and too small uniform, Caspian was unmistakable. What troubled Peter most was who he was with.  
He didn't know them by name, but he knew them by nature. They preyed on other students when the teachers weren't looking for pointless reasons, and always came out on top.

Without realising it, Peter found himself approaching the group, and they dispersed the moment they saw him coming. As they passed him, Peter couldn't miss the jeering looks sent his way.

*****

Caspian turned to figure out why the others – the boy with the green eyes and his friends - had left. He automatically began walking in the other direction, away from Peter. He wasn't in the mood for talking to Peter, not now. Caspian didn't know whether Peter was aware of him listening to the Pevensies arguing earlier or not – surely if he didn't know, he wouldn't be walking toward him now.

"Wait!"

Caspian ignored him and continued walking.

"Please Caspian, we need to talk!" Peter's voice was closer now, and he sounded slightly out of breath.

Caspian spun around and snapped back. "Oh. So you _want _to talk to me now?!"

"You don't understand!" Peter paused to collect his thoughts. "Please, just let me explain."

"What, just like you let _me _explain?" The look on Caspian's face stopped Peter in his tracks.

"Look, Caspian, I just-"

Caspian sighed exasperatedly and said quietly, "You just don't get it, do you?" He ran his hands through his hair. "How can you expect me to listen to you when you wouldn't listen to me?" He turned to walk away.

Peter reached out to grab Caspian's elbow. Caspian instantly shook him off. "_Please, _Caspian. Just listen to me."

"Give me one good reason why."

"Because I'm here to apologise." Caspian froze. He looked at Peter expectantly, completely unconvinced.

Peter took a deep breath before speaking; he'd mentally rehearsed this all day. "I'm so sorry for not listening to you; what I did was wrong, but I assure you there is a reason for everything." Caspian raised an eyebrow and Peter kept going before he could comment. "I thought I'd given up on Narnia, I'd accepted that I was never going back. But then, you appeared. And it threw me off." Caspian opened his mouth to say something in return, but was silenced by a wave of Peter's hand. "I guess I was always jealous of you; you could stay in Narnia. I didn't have the choice, but you did, and you decided to come here. And I hated you for having that option."

"Ah." Caspian frowned, unsure of what to say. "But Peter, I can't go back, I don't have that option anymore." Caspian's scowl had now completely vanished. "I think... I think I might have made a mistake, Peter."

"I guess we're both in the same situation."

"I guess so..."


End file.
